A Notebook For The Future
by Jillessa Heronstairs
Summary: It's been four years since Quentin and Margo parted in Algoe. He's never stopped thinking about her, loving her. Now, it's his graduation day, and she shows up, offering him yet another very difficult choice. But will his answer be different this time? My take on a happy ending for the two.


**When I read Paper Towns yesterday, I found it to be an incredible story, but the ending left me wishing for a slightly more resolved ending. A happier one, perhaps. So I wrote this to ease my mind. I hope that anyone who reads this enjoys my interpretation of what could have happened years later!**

* * *

**A Notebook For The Future**

It's been four years.

Four years since that day in Algoe, that day when I stood in the deserted parking lot, holding her in my arms, willing myself to not cry.

It wasn't that I had lost all hope, since I knew that she was okay, and that she would contact me. And that she did, and we have kept in touch for these four years, while I have been at college.

Yet I have only seen her once, a couple months after we parted.

The worst part was that I had a choice. To stay with her, or to go back to my life.

I left her.

_Margo_.

* * *

I stand in the mirror, straightening out my cap and gown, making sure that my hair isn't too messy, and that I haven't missed any areas while shaving.

It's graduation day. Four years of work, study, and pain leading up to this one day I am able to leave, go anywhere I want, for as long as I want.

My parents jump up to hug me as I exit the bedroom. They are here for my big day, and the only words that they can seem to say are, "We're so proud of you!" and "This is your big day!"

I give them a small smile, and they whisk me out to the car, and we head off to the graduation ceremony.

I can't help but think of _her_.

* * *

She likes it in New York. She's traveled a lot, to Vegas and LA and San Francisco and Chicago, but I can tell that her heart really does rest in the big city of New York.

Her emails and texts are filled with the events happening in her life, the appeal of taking on little odd jobs, and earning money to travel to wherever she feels interested in.

She's finally doing what she wants to do, being free and living in the present.

She's finally _happy_.

* * *

I take my seat in the rows of chairs, glancing around me. There are hundreds of other graduates, eager and excited to be getting their diploma, while I merely sit here, calm as can be.

It's so unlike my high school graduation. My mind floats back to the twenty-one hour car trip. The exhilaration, the thrill of the chase, and the overarching worry that she might have been dead.

I think of the happiness when I finally found her, and then the sadness when I was forced to leave, watching her image grow smaller and smaller as we pulled out of the parking lot, leaving her behind in the deserted city, with a population of a mere one.

I think of how I finally _understood_.

* * *

My mind snaps out of its daydreaming when they announce my name, and I stand suddenly. I've not paid any attention to the speeches, or the other students names being called. I rush over to where the others are standing, taking my diploma from an outstretched hand, and shaking a couple, before making my way back down the stairs.

There are whistles, applause, and cheers as I do, and I wonder if I even know most of the people who seem so happy to see me taking the rolled up piece of paper. I idly think that maybe they're glad that I'm not holding the line up any longer.

As I turn to make my way back to my seat, I catch a glimpse of a girl sitting in the front row of seats, the reserved ones that you have to pay for and book months in advance.

Chestnut brown hair, now evened out and styled with layers.

Those striking blue eyes that never lose their light.

That mouth, curved up in a smile.

She's _here_.

* * *

"Congratulations!" my mother exclaims, pulling me into a tight hug, as I laugh and clasp my hands around her as well. "We always knew you would make it far!"

"Good job, son," my father adds, clapping me on the back.

"Thanks, guys," I say, fixing my mussed hair, a result from the removal of my cap. "Did you guys… Happen to see Margo here?"

"No. Did she come for you?" my mom asks. She knows about my love for her.

You'd think that over the years, it would fade. Not so. The fact that I had been helplessly in love with her for most of my teenage years should have been a first indication.

In fact, it had been the reason why most of my college romances hadn't gotten past first base. Still yet, I found myself mourning over a girl that I could never have. A girl whose life would end up in a totally different place as mine.

But then again, a guy could dream, right?

My mom offers me a small smile, before giving me a kiss on the cheek, alerting me soundlessly that she would be following my father to the refreshments table.

A soft tap on my shoulder catches my attention, I turn around.

It's her. "_Quentin_."

* * *

Her eyes are shining, and I pull her into a hug. She laughs, wrapping her arms around me, and I slowly let her down, not wanting to let go, but wanting to speak to her.

"I can't believe you're here."

"I know, right?" she giggles. "I knew I was coming a long time ago. It was hard not to tell you."

"It was a nice surprise," I whisper, lacing my hands with hers, and gently give her hand a squeeze. "How are you?"

"I've been good. Haven't you been able to tell that from my emails?" she laughs, taking my cap from me and placing it on her own head, pursing her lips at me. "How do I look?"

"Gorgeous as always," I say, kissing her quickly on the lips, and she blushes. Wow. Who would ever think I could get The Margo Roth Spiegelman to blush?

"Graduating from college, huh?" Margo says, tipping her head to the side. "On to bigger and better things, am I right?"

"Not exactly," I reply, as I haven't got a clue what I'm going to do with my life now. "I don't have plans yet."

Her eyes burn into mine as she regards me with a steady gaze, scanning my face for a clue, it seems like.

"Come _with_ me."

* * *

I gape at her for what seems like eternity. "What? I can't. I mean… As good as that sounds… I don't know…"

"It'll be awesome," she pleads, her eyes wide and hopeful. "I have a place in New York currently. A small apartment. We could stay there for a while. I could show you the city."

"Margo…" I reply, helpless. "But I've just graduated. Would this really be the right thing to do?"

"Go with your heart, Quentin," she smiles. "I've gone with mine. It was so hard to see you leave years ago in Algoe. But I did it. And it was the best decision I ever made."

"What, leaving me?" I try to joke, and she quickly shakes her head.

"Letting you go," she whispers, as I find my hand gripping hers even tighter. "Because I knew then, that it would not work out. But now… It's all I wish for. Traveling with you."

The sides of my mouth quirk up, and I answer her silent question. We might have had our differences in the past, but I know that right now, there is one thing that we both want.

_Each other._

* * *

The small living room is warm, and I sit in front ot the fireplace, my laptop in my lap as I curl up on the couch. She's right. The city is wonderful, as there is so much to see and do, and I'm loving every second of it.

"Here you go, love," Margo says, sitting down beside me, holding out a steaming cup of warm hot chocolate to me. I close my laptop and set it on the floor, taking the cup and raising it to my lips.

"Thanks." I say, and she curls up next to me, nestling into my side with her own cup.

"Thank you for everything," she laughs, and I faintly think about how much she has changed over the years. It's simply wonderful. "Anyway, I have something to show you."

"What is it?"

"I've been planning this for four years," she smiles, reaching behind her and pulling a notebook from behind the couch. Its a black notebook, the edges decorated with silver trimming. "I never thought that it might actually work out."

She holds the notebook out to me, and I take it. It's similar to the one we buried in Algoe.

"It's a plan," she whispers, turning open the front page. "For us."

And then I see it. Written in pencil, there's notes and writings and details about places and ways to get there and all the little things you might need to know to plan your life out.

Or in our case, a trip.

"I want to go all these places with you," she says, flipping through the notebook, and I realize that it is entirely filled out, her handwriting and random capitalization scrawled over the lines. "I've wanted to since I left you."

I close the book, setting it on top of my laptop, then my hot chocolate on top of that. I reach for hers, taking it out of her hands, and setting it down as well, Then, I take her hands, gazing at her with a sort of intense stare. "Yes, of course. I would love to."

I have no plans, no guidance, no way of knowing what is going to happen in the future.

But I do have her.

_And a notebook for the future._

* * *

**I wrote this in less than an hour, but I really do hope that you liked it. It was just something that I felt like I had to write, and I was inspired.**

**~Jillessa Heronstairs~**


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